


The Boundless Year

by hopefor_days



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, ENJOY!!!, Gen, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, but it wouldnt be complete without complete without angst, so we have to have angst, the first 60 percent of this is just fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:01:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8088208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefor_days/pseuds/hopefor_days
Summary: Dean Winchester's life had gone to shit in the past several years. Castiel Novak avoided mentioning his family to anyone if he could help it.The two of them meet by chance and bond immediately. They begin a whirlwind romance that becomes the best year of their lives. For the first time in either of their lives, everything seems to be going just right. But circumstances beyond their control come and make them question. Question themselves and question each other. And they must remember:Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester’s life had gone to shit in the past several years. It had started about six years prior when his younger brother, Sam, decided to hell with the family business, he was going to go to school and be a lawyer.

John Winchester hadn’t been thrilled when his younger son left them for a school in California, leaving Dean alone to deal with their father.

Things hadn’t gotten better when, a few years later, John caught Dean performing unsavory acts and decided he wasn’t going to have a son like that.

Alone, without a family, Dean eventually found solace in an old friend of his father’s, Bobby, and his wife Ellen. Dean got a steady job working in Bobby’s garage. Dean didn’t try to speak with his father and his father didn’t try to speak with him. But Dean had Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen and the three of them were a family.

But as it turned out, fate would not have it. First, it was Ellen, then Bobby. And Dean was once again alone.

The garage was his now. As was everything else of Bobby’s. Dean sold some things to make himself a bit of extra money. He got a small apartment near the garage. And above all else, he had decided to try reconciling with Sam, who he hadn’t spoken to since he left for school.

Dean sat on his bed, a phone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. It had taken some doing and a lot of phone calls, but Dean had managed to get Sam’s number. Dean took a deep breath, entering the number into his phone. He said a silent prayer before hitting the call button.

“Hello?” said a familiar voice after a few rings.

Dean opened his mouth, choking on his words for a moment. “Sammy.”

“You know I always hated when you called me that, Dean,” Sam responded with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, unsure of what to say.

Sam was silent for a moment. “I don’t know what Dad was thinking, having you call me. But my answer is the same now as it was then. I’m not-”

“That’s not why I called,” Dean interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “I-I don’t know what Dad wants. I haven’t spoken to him in…a long time.”

“Dean?” Sam asked, suddenly confused.

“Sam?” Dean heard a woman’s voice faintly in the background. “Who is that?”

“It’s my brother.” Sam’s voice had gotten fainter, as though he had turned away from the phone. “It’s Dean.”

“Sorry about that,” Sam had returned to the phone. “That was just Jess. She was just wondering-”

“Who’s Jess?” Dean asked without thinking.

Sam seemed to think over his answer for a moment. “My fiancé. Look, Dean, life has been really good since I left. I’m almost done with law school. In fact, I sit for my bar exam in a few months. That’s why, when I thought you were calling about Dad…I don’t want to give this all up.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Dean smiled, a swell of pride for his little brother growing inside him. “Like I said, I haven’t spoken to Dad. We…we had our own falling out. He kicked me to the curb. Bobby and Ellen took me in.”

“Oh, Dean,” Sam’s voice grew full of concern. “I…sorry to hear that. How are Bobby and Ellen?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the words. “They, uh, Ellen got cancer. About a year ago. She didn’t last too long; it was very progressive. And Bobby, well he was kind of lost without her. It didn’t take long for him to go with her.”

A silence stretched between them as Sam digested the news. “Shit Dean, I’m so sorry. I feel…I wish I could have been there, you know? But I’m here now. I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean smiled. Sam let out a play exasperated sigh before laughing. Dean got up and began pacing the room, happy to have his brother back. “So are you still in California?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Castiel Novak avoided mentioning his family to anyone if he could help it. Though in his mid-twenties, he had never truly experienced the outside world. And from the time since he left his family, he had learned that the way he knew was not the way things were supposed to be. If his older brothers had had their way, he would be safely under their wing, none the wiser.

But Castiel had had doubts. He wondered, what else was there? The announcement at the dinner table had gone over about as well as Castiel had expected. Lucifer was calm, merely trying to talk Castiel out of the idea. Michael, on the other hand, began demanding to know where Castiel had gotten these ideas into his head. Things were tense until the day that he finally left.

Castiel had tried to keep in contact with his family. But being away only further reinforced what Castiel had already begun to suspect. As much as Castiel had wanted to talk with them, especially his younger siblings, Michael and Lucifer had cut him off entirely.

Realizing that he was completely on his own, Castiel got a job. It was a small library, but it was money. His apartment was a small one, several blocks away from the library, but it was what he could afford.

After a week, Castiel saw some bonuses to working in a library. He could check out books whenever he wanted. Having been sheltered all his life, Castiel took to the books like a duck to water. He began to fly through them, finishing a book a night. He began using what was left of his meager wages after bills and necessities to start his own personal library.

Old milk crates, salvaged from landfills and dumpsters, made up the make-shift bookshelf, situated in one corner of the studio apartment. The books created a partition, separating the bed from the rest of the space.

The first few weeks had been a learning experience. There were some things that came relatively easy. He had some basic cooking skills. Paying bills were a little difficult, but Castiel made sure to keep a calendar with all of all of his due dates. He made sure to be friendly to everyone. It had become a habit when he’d leave for the library to say hello to Mrs. Brandon, the little old lady who lived a floor below, and sometimes help her down the stairs. In return, Castiel would find little gifts left on his doorstep when he got home. Usually, it was in the form of food. There had been a plate of cookies, a small cake, some kind of beef casserole. About a week after moving in, Castiel had found a scarf and mittens, hand knitted, with a note telling him he needed to bundle up for the cold winter coming in.

Castiel found comfort in the tedious, meaningless tasks that were part of home keeping. It reminded him that he was home. This was his home. It was his to do and believe what he and he alone wanted.

It was doing one of those tedious, meaningless tasks that truly changed Castiel’s life.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean hated doing laundry. He was never sure which colors could be washed together, how much soap to add, what temperature was best for which load.

The laundry room was down in the basement of the apartment building. The only in was a door from a set of stairs leading from the outside into the back of the building. Dean walked around the outside of the building, trying to juggle the laundry basket so he could open the door.

Dean was immediately bombarded by the sound of machines and the smell of laundry soap. The room was surprisingly bright. The floor was made up of a light grey linoleum, the walls painted an off white color. The wall to the left was lined with washing machines; to the right was the dryers. There were a few people standing around. Waiting for machines to finish, folding clothes fresh out of the dryer, chatting amongst themselves.

There was one man that stood out. He was perched on the counter in front of the wall of washing machines. He had brown hair and soft blue eyes, partially hidden behind a pair of reading glasses that had slid down to the end of his nose. He had his nose buried in a book, absentmindedly swinging his legs that dangled above the floor. He was wearing a pair of fitted jeans and an oversized pale blue sweater. It was difficult to gage the man’s exact height and stature, but Dean figured that the man was probably shorter. And damn, was he attractive.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. It had been a while since he had felt something for anyone. It had been a while since he had allowed himself to feel something for anyone. Not since Dad had caught him with his friend Benny…

He shook his head and picked a machine a few feet away from the man and immediately tried to distract himself.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel noticed movement at one of the machines next to him. Knowing it was just another resident and that he was getting to a good part in his book, he elected to ignore it. It was the string of expletives that finally drew Castiel’s attention and took his breath away.

There was a man at the machine, holding a handful of coins and glaring at the console for the machine. Castiel understood. There was an unnecessary amount of buttons and knobs on the machines and he himself had been very confused at first as well.

Castiel continued watching this man, wanting to help but unable to move. He was tall and lean, well toned. His broad shoulders were squared, as though the washing machine were a formidable adversary. His jeans hugged his hips and his t-shirt stretched across the muscles of his back.

He felt a small jolt in what felt like his stomach. His heart seemed to pound on his chest. Castiel had not felt anything like this before. Was this the ‘butterfly’ feeling that so many books had described? Could this be…

Castiel cleared his throat, jumped off of the counter and set down _Pride and Prejudice_ , finally finding his voice. “D-did you want help?”

The man seemed to spin around, wide-eyed. His eyes were a beautiful green. He looked Castiel up and down in astonishment. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, unable to form a response.

“You have to do it like this,” Castiel told him, moving up to the machine. He took the coins from the man, pushing the correct buttons before inserting the change. “Then you press start.”

They both reached for the start button at the same time, brushing their fingers together. Castiel could feel a strange heat rising to his cheeks before he pulled away. He turned away to return to his reading when a voice stopped him.

“Thank you.”

Castiel turned to see the man watching him, smiling a kind of crooked yet genuine smile. He had rested one hand on the counter and had placed the other hand in his pocket.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” the man continued. “Dean Winchester. I just moved here.”

“My name is Castiel. Castiel Novak,” Castiel smiled.

“Cas,” Dean grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to preface this by saying I'm sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out. Between my first semester at college, computer problems that almost lost all of the progress I had made, and writer's block, this was a lot of work. And I'm not kidding about the computer problems. I had about a third of this chapter done when my computer started throwing a hissy fit, not letting me get into Windows to do anything. Luckily, I was able to get in long enough to save all of my files to a flash drive before having to wipe my computer.   
> But enough excuses, hope you enjoy!

Castiel couldn’t get that first conversation out of his mind. He hadn’t been prepared at all for meeting Dean Winchester. Not that the conversation had been all that stimulating. In truth, he had frozen up, unsure of what to say or do, and escaped as soon as his machine went off. Once on the other side of the room, his clothes placed in a dryer, Castiel allowed himself to glance back over at Dean. Dean was leaning against the counter with his back towards Castiel. The slight hunch of his shoulders made a ball of guilt form in Castiel’s stomach.

It took a few days for Dean to make his first move. Castiel was coming home from the library late one night. As he rounded the corner of his hallway, he noticed a note on his door. Figuring it was from Mrs. Brandon, Castiel pulled it down without looking at it with the intention of reading it once he got settled. The signature, however, caught Castiel’s attention and made him stop.

 

_Cas,_

_Sorry about the other day. I want to do that better. Call me sometime?_

_866-907-3235_

_Dean_

 

Castiel got butterflies in his stomach at seeing his name in Dean’s handwriting. It was the same feeling when Dean first called him Cas. Dean wanted to see him again. Dean wanted Castiel to call him. Suddenly, panic began to set in. Castiel had no phone. He had never bothered to get one. Truthfully, had not been able to afford one at first. And even after he had enough, he saw no point as he didn’t have anyone to call.

How could he let Dean know that he wanted to also try things over again as well? He could go leave a note on Dean’s door, but he didn’t know where Dean’s apartment was in the building. Which briefly begged the question in Castiel’s mind of how Dean found out where he lived, but Castiel shrugged it off. He could just leave a note on his own door, but there was no way to know that Dean would think to look there. Perhaps the front desk could tell him which apartment was Dean’s? Or at the very least, they could give it to him themselves. Yes, that sounded good.

Castiel dumped his coat and his book bag inside his door and went to the kitchen counter to grab a pen and a piece of paper. He quickly scribbled out a reply. He all but sprinted, barely closing his door before running down the hallway towards the stairs. He made his way down the stairs quickly, taking them two at a time. He had gone down half a flight, about to turn to go down the other half, when he collided with someone.

“I see you got my note,” a deep, familiar voice laughed. The same voice Castiel hadn’t stopped thinking about for several days.

Castiel took a step back and looked into Dean’s clear green eyes. Dean had a smirk on his face, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. Dean’s eyes darted down to the piece of paper that Castiel had clutched in his hand.

“Ah, um, yes,” Castiel responded. “I was just…I’m sorry to say…I don’t have a phone.” He rushed out the last part.

Dean looked surprised. He hadn’t been expecting that answer, of all things. “Oh. Uh, I’m sorry, Cas. I-I didn’t know.”

Castiel shook his head. “There was no way for you to have. It was just that when I moved in, I couldn’t aff- I didn’t have much of a need for one.”

Dean’s smile returned. “Well, I’d say you have reason for one now.”

“Is that so?” Castiel smiled. This was flirting, he realized. This wasn’t too bad. He was figuring it out.

Dean’s eyes shifted to the side a little, his voice became just a little bit softer. He was feeling nervous. “I just wanted to apologize for the other day. Hear me out.” Dean had put his hand up as Castiel was about to interrupt. “I-there were a few things I would have changed about our first meeting. I just want the chance to do it over. Have a chance to get to know each other better?”

It took Castiel a moment to realize that Dean was waiting for an answer. “I…would like that as well.”

Dean smiled. “How about this Friday? I’ll take you out to dinner?” He suddenly looked down at his watch. “Shit. I-I gotta go. I’m really sorry. But does that work? This Friday?”

Castiel felt heat rise in his face again. Dean himself looked unsure. A slight blush was forming on his neck and he clasped his hands together nervously. Castiel briefly attempted to wrack his brain for anything he might be doing. He knew there wasn’t, his life consisted solely of the library and home.

“Well, um, no. I mean yes. That’s fine. I had meant, no I’m not doing anything else. So yes, Friday is fine,” Castiel somehow managed to stammer out. He felt like he was going to break out in a cold sweat.

Dean smiled, clasping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Awesome. I’ll pick you up.”

And with that, Dean turned and began heading back down the stairs. Castiel stood there for a moment, absorbing everything that happened. Dean had asked him out. He was going on a date. He was going on a date with Dean on Friday at…

“Dean! Wait!” Castiel was flying down the stairs again.

His voice must have echoed down the stairwell because Dean was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, staring expectantly at where Castiel appeared.

“What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” Dean asked, looking genuinely worried. He probably thought Castiel was going to change his mind.

Castiel paused a few steps above Dean, regaining his breath and his bearings. “What time on Friday?”

“What?”

“What time are you going to pick me up on Friday? You never said a time.”

Dean suddenly smirked, his green eyes twinkling. “We’ll work out the details later?”

With that, Dean was down the stairs and out the front door. Castiel stood there, still clutching the note from Dean. He pursed his lips. The man really was attractive, but he was just as cocky.

 

The next day, Thursday, Castiel trudged his way up the stairs to his apartment. A group of young school children had been on a field trip to the library that day. As much as he loved to see them so excited about books, the anxiety over making sure the books weren’t destroyed by their chubby five-year-old hands wore him out. He had to stay later than usual, trying to clean up the carnage.

When he rounded the corner into his hallway, Castiel looked at his door excitedly, hoping for another note from Dean. Seeing nothing there, Castiel let himself slouch over again, wishing only for the relief of his couch or perhaps a warm bath. Moving almost automatically, Castiel approached his front door. Get out keys. Place in lock. Turn. Open door. Walk inside.

Castiel suddenly pitched forward, having tripped over something in the doorway that he hadn’t noticed before. He desperately tried to grab onto the doorway, one leg wildly swinging through the air. He was unable to correct himself, but rather slid down to the floor, still clinging to the doorway with both hands and the leg that had been swinging, looking much like a stripper on a pole.

He glanced over at the object that had caused that moment of complete grace, letting out an exasperated but pleasantly surprised sigh when he saw a wrapped package with a bow on top. Castiel pulled himself to his feet and grabbed the box, shutting the door behind him and turning on the light. He placed the box on the kitchen table and went into his bedroom, getting comfortable before returning to his small kitchen and beginning to brew a cup of tea.

Castiel examined the package more closely and saw writing on it. In Dean’s now familiar handwriting.

 

_TO CAS_

_FROM DEAN_

 

Cas. He was really beginning to like that nickname from Dean. No one had ever really called him by a nickname before. Besides Gabriel calling him “Cassie” whenever Michael or Lucifer weren’t in earshot. _Cas_ , he though fondly, looking at the packaging. The box was wrapped in plain brown paper and was tied up with twine, which was masterfully tied into a bow on top.

Cas briefly considered what Dean could possibly have given him when he finally gave in and opened it. Inside was a box that Cas quickly opened as well. Inside that was a note and a box with the logo of some cell phone company. Cas picked up the note first.

 

_Cas,_

_I know you said you didn’t have a phone, so I went ahead and got you one. Don’t worry about paying me back or anything. I_ wanted _to do this. For you. The number for the phone is on the box along with instructions for how to turn it on. If you need help, I’m in Apt 3B._

_Dean_

_P.S. See you tomorrow ;)_

 

Cas immediately began blushing, glad for the fact that no one was here to see him so flustered. He pulled the phone box out and started to follow the instructions to set up the phone. He powered it on and immediately there was a ding. He had received a text from someone. Cas looked at the number and recognized it as the one Dean had given him in his first note. Excited, Cas opened it.

 

_Hey Cas, how does 8 sound?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this turned out alright. The last third of this was finished at around 1 or 2 in the morning because I started working on it again and decided I would finish and post it that night. There is a (very) rough outline for this story in my head (and in a Word document) so it does have direction and I know what I'm doing it might just take a while to hash out all the details. But anyway, hope this turned out okay and I hope the next chapter won't take as long to get churned out?


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stood in front of his closet, staring at his limited assortment of clothing. Nothing was really date material. _That is what this is_ , Dean thought to himself, _I’m not just reading him all wrong, am I?_

            That thought had crossed Dean’s mind more than a few times since he asked Cas out. It had _seemed_ like they were on the same page, that Cas was into him, but who was really to say. What if this was all wishful thinking?

Dean shook the thought out of his head and looked at his clock. 7:35pm.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

He quickly threw on a t-shirt that he knew was clean and his only pair of jeans that didn’t have grease stains. There was a semi-nice looking plaid button down hanging to one side. He pulled it on, rolled up the sleeves, leaving it unbuttoned over his t-shirt. He pulled on his nicest work boots, all the while mentally cursing himself for not having a designated ‘nice’ outfit.

He quickly double checked everything in the picnic basket that he had put together, hoping he wasn’t coming on too strong.

“Breathe Dean,” he coached himself. “You got this. He’ll like it. Hopefully.”

Dean paced his apartment for a few minutes, trying to balance not showing up too early with being punctual. With just under ten minutes until 8 o’clock, Dean grabbed the picnic basket, ran a hand through his hair and was out the door.

 

 

Cas not-so-patiently drummed his fingers on his “dining room” table. Friday at eight. That was the time they had agreed upon, right? Cas’ mind was running through all kinds of nightmare scenarios where he had somehow misunderstood the date and time. Or even Dean’s intentions. Perhaps Dean was new to the building as well (he hadn’t known how to work the laundry machine) and just wanted a friend, not more so.

He was dressed as nicely as he could. It was an outfit he commonly wore to work. A simple sweater, a nice pair of pants.            He obsessively checked the clock again, knowing full well he had plenty of time before Dean was supposed to get there. There was no reason for him to start panicking yet. Cas kept repeating this mantra to himself, forcibly keeping himself from looking at the clock only a few seconds after he had just looked. Cas was just about to give in and look again when a knock on his door startled him.

Cas nearly leapt out of his chair and into a nose dive to get the door. He didn’t even bother looking through the peephole. He swung the door open to see Dean standing there, carrying a picnic basket and looking, if Cas wasn’t mistaken, a little sheepish.

“I feel over dressed,” Cas smiled, referring to Dean’s more casual attire.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Don’t be. I, uh, don’t really have… nice… clothes.”

“That’s fine,” Cas tried to reassure him. “I like this outfit.”

Dean smiled back, seeming to relax. “So, are you ready then?”

“Where are we going?” Cas asked, closing his door behind him and following Dean towards the stairs. The whole time, wondering where they could possibly be going on a picnic at eight o’clock at night.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Dean grinned back at Cas, sending butterflies rocketing through Cas’ stomach.

Dean led Cas down the stairs, outside, and around to the back of the building where much of the parking was. They walked over to a shiny, black car. It was vintage, but obviously very well cared for. Dean gave it a loving gaze before rubbing away some speck of dirt that only he must have seen.

“This is a very nice car,” Cas said, enjoying seeing Dean so enthralled.

“She’s my baby. That’s what I call her. Baby,” Dean’s love for the car was obvious in his tone. “She’s a Chevy,” he added, noticing Cas’ confused expression at the make symbol on the front.

“Tell me about her.”

Dean immediately and excitedly began. “1967 Chevy Impala. She’s my pride and joy. I’ve been caring for her for years now, ever since my father left her to me.”

Dean’s faced darkened for a moment at the mention of his father and Cas got the feeling that it wasn’t a subject he wanted to go into detail about. Cas completely understood that.

“So you’re taking me on a picnic? At eight o’clock at night?” Cas asked, hoping to get clarification about the picnic basket.

“Yes.” Dean answered, a smug smile on his face, purposefully trying to keep Cas guessing.

Dean held the passenger open for Cas before jogging to the other side to put the basket in the back seat and getting in. The car roared to life as Dean turned the key, eighties rock pouring out of the cassette player. He turned the volume down, with a quick glance at Cas to see if it bothered him. Cas smiled warmly, not familiar with the music, but not altogether opposed to it. Besides, it was something Dean liked and Cas wanted to learn as much about him as he could.

They drove in relative silence on Cas’ part while Dean talked. He told Cas all about Sam, his little brother, who was living happily in California with his fiancée, about to become a lawyer. Cas felt a small pang in his heart, thinking of his own younger brother, Gabriel. And his younger sister, Anna. And how it had been far too long since he had spoken to them. But Michael and Lucifer had made their stance on the matter quite clear.

Cas shook his head, realizing he had been lost in thought. Dean was looking at Cas expectantly. He was waiting for some kind of answer.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said apologetically, hoping he hadn’t hurt Dean’s feelings. “What did you say?”

Dean laughed, a rich sound that made Cas want to hear more. “Wow, only the first date and I’m already boring him.”

Cas quickly opened his mouth to say that wasn’t true, but Dean waved a hand in the air. “It’s fine Cas. Only joking. I had just asked if you had any siblings yourself.”

“Yeah,” Cas responded quietly. He didn’t particularly feel like going into detail about his weird family dynamic. He didn’t want to scare Dean away. “A few.”

He turned his head to look more out the window. In his peripheral vision, he could see Dean looking at him. Judging from the expression on his face, Dean understood that family wasn’t a topic Cas wanted to breach just yet. Instead, Dean turned back to the road and began singing along quietly to the music. Cas didn’t recognize the artist, but the song sounded vaguely familiar, singing about a couple named Tommy and Gina.

“ _We’ve got to hold on to what we got, ‘cause it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not_ ,” Dean whisper-sang, focused on the road.

Cas watched Dean, enjoying the way the street lights made shadows play across Dean’s face. And the low gravel to Dean’s voice as he sang. Cas hoped that he hadn’t soured the mood when Dean asked about his siblings. There was no way for Dean to know about the situation, and yet Cas had answered rather curtly. He grimaced inwardly, wondering what Dean thought of him and what was running through his mind now.

Dean turned to look around, flipping on his turn signal. The two made eye contact, Dean realizing that Cas had been watching him sing, a low blush starting to make its way onto Dean’s face. Dean quickly looked away, focusing instead on pulling into the parking lot of what looked like a park.

It was incredibly dark. The few lamps in the place were dull orange or yellow. From what Cas could see, it looked like the park was large, with a few low hills and sprawling grass. Dean turned off the car and the pair was thrown into a sudden silence. Dean gave Cas one last grin before getting out of the car and reaching back to grab the picnic basket. Cas followed Dean’s lead, getting out of the car and jogging to catch up with Dean, who had already begun to walk quickly into the park.

Dean stopped on top of a small hill, looking up at the stars. Seeming to decide that this was the perfect spot, he put down the basket and opened it, pulling out a blanket.

“Lend a hand?” he asked, his grin having transformed from smug to genuine.

Cas smiled back and they had their picnic set up quickly. It wasn’t much. Burgers that Dean must have cooked ahead of time on the apartment building’s communal grill. There were also two salads and some buttered rolls. For drinks, there was a choice between coke or beer.

“Hope you like your burgers medium rare,” Dean told Cas, divvying out the food. “Also that you’re not vegetarian. Probably should have asked before I made all this.”

“I’m not,” Cas pointed to the beer that Dean was holding out. Dean handed Cas the beer and put the coke can that he had been holding in the other hand back in the basket. “This looks really good.”

“Cooking is a bit like my guilty pleasure, I guess,” Dean told him. “It’s relaxing.”

Cas nodded sagely, “I don’t cook too much myself. I get by on what I can. Ramen. Mac and cheese. Pasta, occasionally.”

Dean laughed, handing Cas a fork for his salad. “I’ve become a master of making something out of nothing. I can make ingredients from a barren pantry look like a culinary masterpiece. When Sam and I were little, he used to love to have me cook for him. He’d judge it like I was on some Food Channel show or something.”

“And how’d you measure up?”

“First place every time.”

Silence for a few moments.

“The burgers are very good.”

“How would you say they measure up?”

“First place. Blows the competition away.”

“Another success!”

Cas took a sip from his beer, which wasn’t his favorite, but it wasn’t all that bad, given the situation. “So why did you decide a picnic at eight o’clock was a brilliant idea for a first date?”

Dean looked up suddenly, eyebrows knitting together. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no!” Cas responded quickly. “This is really nice. I like it, I was just wondering your reasoning. It’s a little… unconventional?”

Dean sighed in relief. “I just figured it’d be nice. Mood lighting. Star gazing. Handmade dinner. It’s romantic.”

“It is,” Cas agreed, staring at Dean. It must have been a full moon that night, because Cas could see Dean clearly in the light. Dean’s skin seemed to have a glow to it, his normally sharp features softened.

Dean polished off his burger, took another drink from his beer and flopped onto his back, staring at the stars. Cas followed Deans example, laying next to him. They were touching shoulders, the backs of their hands brushing against each other. Dean occasionally reached up and pointed out a particular star or constellation.

“My mom used to love stargazing with me,” Dean explained when Cas asked how Dean knew all of this. “It was something we did a lot when I was very young.”

Dean went quiet again, like he had when he mentioned his father earlier. But this was different. It was melancholy. It was obvious to Cas that there was a story there, but it probably wouldn’t be the best to pry for it on the first date.

Dean let out a sigh before pointing out another constellation as though nothing had happened.

Things continued like that for a few more minutes. Every now and then, Cas felts Dean’s hand twitch next to his and wondered if Dean was debating whether to grab Cas’ hand. Cas was debating whether he should be the one to make a move and hold Dean’s hand when he heard a strange hissing noise.

“What was that?” Cas asked, sitting up on his elbows.

Dean followed Cas’ example. He opened his mouth to answer when suddenly water was spraying from all around them. The sprinklers for the grass had turned on, dousing both of them.

Dean leaped to his feet, throwing the food and drinks and blanket back into the picnic basket. Cas got up, helping Dean clean up. They both turned to go back to the car, Dean leading the way down the hill, grass now slick with water.

Cas took a step, feeling his left foot start to slip. Hoping to correct himself before crashing into Dean, Cas forced his other foot in front of the slipping one, hoping to act like a brake. It didn’t

The right foot, rather than stopping in front of the left foot, continued on its sideways trajectory. Cas let out a small squeaking noise as he began to go down, causing Dean to turn. In what felt like less than a second, Cas heard the noise of glass breaking and then a pair of arms was holding him up.

Dean had dropped the picnic basket, breaking the bottles inside, and grabbed Cas to save him from falling.

“Thanks,” Cas whispered, trying to regain his footing.

“Well, I think this date is going well,” Dean smirked, “You really seem to be falling for me.”

Cas lightly smacked Dean’s shoulder, who was smiling down at Cas.

The pair stood there for a moment, the moon shining down, getting absolutely drenched by the sprinklers, standing in each other’s arms.

Dean began to lean his head down and Cas’ heart began to race. There was a brief moment in Cas’ mind debating what to do. The debate didn’t last long. Cas tilted his head to meet Dean’s and their lips met.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas couldn’t have asked for a better 3 weeks. Being with Dean was easy and two of them had started a little schedule, trying to work around their work schedules. Sometimes Dean would have to stay later at the garage, busy working on a rushed job or just managing the business.

            “Someday I want to expand,” Dean would tell Cas all the time whenever they had dinner together. “Not too big, that isn’t what Uncle Bobby would have wanted. But maybe hiring another mechanic or two. Take the load off a little. It’d let me be able to come home a little earlier, I think.”

            Cas was sitting at his dining table, waiting for the text that told him Dean had just returned from work. He held a book loosely in his hand, a glass of water sitting in front of him. The words in the book barely held Cas’ attention as he strained his ears for the familiar ding of his cell phone. Instead, he nearly jumped a foot in the air as someone loudly knocked on his door. On the other side of the door stood a very tired-looking Dean. Cas opened his mouth to say something, stretching out a hand to grab Dean’s.

            Dean grabbed Cas’ hand. “Want to go get drinks?”

 

            Twenty minutes later, the pair was sitting at a bar, on matching stools, a beer bottle in front of each of them. Dean had buried his face in his hands, while Cas sat by, unsure of what to say. It seemed like it would be a bad time to ask ‘How was work?’

            Suddenly, Dean let out a sigh, reaching out a hand for the bottle. Cas intercepted it, holding onto Dean’s hand and rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.

            “Did you want to talk about it?” Cas finally asked, just hoping for some kind of response from his boyfriend.

            Dean continued to sit there, letting out a large breath. He rubbed his other hand on his face, staying silent.

            “You shouldn’t bottle things up, Dean,” Cas chided. “You know I’m here to listen.”

            “I know,” Dean finally responded. “I’m sorry. It’s just…It was a  _really_ rough day at work and I…”

            Cas squeezed Dean’s hand reassuringly. “What happened?”

            Dean took a sip from his drink before starting. “It was a customer at the garage. He…God, he was just like Dad.”

            “…Your dad?”

            Dean eyed his beer bottle, as though contemplating downing the rest of it in one go, but he didn’t. Instead he took a single sip and sighed, “Dad and I, we didn’t have the best relationship growing up. And that relationship has just gotten worse with age. I haven’t spoken to him in months and yet…

“See, Mom died when I was four,” Dean said slowly, setting his beer down gently. “Sammy was six months. House fire. Dad got Sammy and I out fine, but Mom...she never had a chance.

“And things were alright for a while, I guess. Could have been worse. Dad was never the same. Moved us constantly. Always gone working odd jobs here and there. Taught Sammy and me a lot of things that most kids…probably never have to worry about.”

Castiel fidgeted with his own drink, words lost in his throat. Dean took a swig from his bottle before continuing.

“Sammy and Dad had a falling out. They never quite saw eye to eye. Sam wanted to go to college, be a lawyer. Dad wanted him, wanted both of us, to join him in the family business. So Sam left.”

Cas took a breath. “So you’re in the ‘family business’ then?”

Dean laughed darkly. “I was. Until Dad caught me once, sucking off another guy.” Dean paused as Cas gasped quietly. “Uncle Bobby took me in, gave me a job at the garage. Said I wouldn’t ever have to worry about anything. That is until, well, Uncle Bobby didn’t last long after Aunt Ellen went. Pure soulmates, the two of them. So the garage is mine now...”

Dean trailed off, taking another drink. A silence stretched between them, save for the chatter in the background. The activity in the bar had dropped considerably since they’d arrived. Cas took a tentative sip from his drink.

“I…understand. Sort of,” Cas began, pursing his lips. “I never really knew my father. And I never had a mother either. It was always my siblings. Sometimes we’d get messages from him, letting us know things he thought we should do, things he wanted done. My older brothers had drilled in us, from a young age, that we should trust his word. Unwaveringly. Without question. And I did, for a while.

“I had decided I wanted a place to call my own, so I got an apartment. Michael, Lucifer, they didn’t trust it at first. Even though I continued to communicate with them. I still received messages from our father and acted on them accordingly. But the separation, the freedom, I began to see the folly in blindly following the orders of a man I had never met. It was just as my brothers had feared. They’ve been keeping me cut off, hoping I won’t be a bad influence on our younger siblings.”

Dean noticed the note of fondness in Cas’ voice at the mention of his younger siblings. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Four total,” Cas smiled. “I’m the middle. My older brothers, Michael and Lucifer, I already mentioned. They’re twins. Then me. Then my sister Anna. Then Gabriel, the baby of the family.”

“Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer? Aren’t those all-?”

“Angels.” Cas nodded. “Father is very…biblical, I guess. Which means that Michael and Lucifer are as well. Which means that is how they tried to raise the rest of us. So I doubt very much that they would approve of…this.” Cas gestured vaguely between himself and Dean.

“Well, you already know how my dad reacted to me and Benny,” Dean smiled, trying to lighten the suddenly serious mood.

But Cas wasn’t done. He rested his other hand on top of his and Dean’s grasped hands. “But the customer today. What happened?”

Dean sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night. His shoulders hunched and Cas felt a little better from the physical indication of Dean’s walls coming down.

“It wasn’t anything major,” Dean rubbed the side of his face with his free hand. “I had accidently tried to sell him the wrong product. I wasn’t completely there, mind elsewhere. I grabbed the wrong thing off the shelf, started ringing it up, and he just went off. The words themselves, the anger, I can deal with those. But his voice. The tone, the phrasing. It was all just like I remember _him_ sounding. “

Suddenly, Dean’s breath hitched and Cas was startled to see Dean on the verge of tears. Cas immediately began rubbing a reassuring hand on his boyfriend’s back.

“I thought I had gotten used to it,” Dean desperately covered and rubbed his eyes, trying to stop crying. “I’d built up those walls. When he got angry, I could let it roll off of me. But today, it all came crashing back to me, when I was younger…”

“It’s alright,” Cas tried to soothe. “You said yourself, it’s been ages since you last spoke to your father. You became desensitized to his anger. But without being exposed to it – or him – for a while, you just…become sensitive to it all over again. And there is _nothing_ wrong with that.”

Dean slouched on his stool. He absently fiddled with the mouth of his bottle, feeling drained.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered. “For unloading all of this baggage onto you.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Cas reassured. “You don’t need to apologize for this. It’s not going to scare me away. Besides, I have my own baggage.”

Dean smiled at Cas, grabbing his hand again. They both finished their drinks and paid, beginning their walk back to their apartments, hand in hand.

Cas couldn’t help the smile that kept coming to him. When he struck out on his own, he never imagined that things would work out as they had. He had a job that he genuinely enjoyed. He lived in an apartment that was relatively nice. He had a boyfriend who made him happy.

Cas looked over at Dean, who was absently staring off, lost in thought. His brows were furrowed and Cas knew he was still thinking about the customer from that day. Cas bumped Dean’s shoulder.

“Come back to my place for a little bit. I’ll make us some tea, we can just relax. Unwind.”

Dean nodded, smiling at Cas. “Sounds good. By the way, uh, Sam’s talking about visiting.”

“Your brother?”

“And his fiancée. When Sam left for college, I got cut off from him along with Dad. I guess he didn’t want to run the risk of Dad getting to him through me. Or he didn’t want to risk me catching Dad’s anger if he found out we were still talking. Either way, it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other. I mean, my baby brother has a fiancée for Christ’s sake.

“I just wanted to let you know because…I want you to meet him.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously. They had reached the apartment complex and were standing outside. “He’s the only family I have left and you’re…the most important thing in my life right now.”

Cas looked down at their intertwined hands, concern coloring his expression. “Does Sam know that you’re…that we’re…?”

“What?” Dean smiled, resting his hand against Cas’ face and lifting it so they were looking at each other. “That I like guys? That I am absolutely smitten with you? That I am so far gone I can’t imagine myself anywhere else than here?”

“Dean,” Cas half-heartedly admonished, blushing. ‘

“It’s true,” Dean grinned, leaning forward, giving Cas a quick kiss. “Now let’s go have some tea.”

 

Cas went around his small kitchen, hoping he didn’t mess anything up as Dean watched him from the dining table.

“You never answered my question,” Cas said over his shoulder as he waited for the kettle to whistle. “Does Sam know?”

“…Not yet,” Dean admitted. “I…I’m sure he’ll be fine with it. But I don’t know. I just don’t know how to say it. Do I just call him up and say ‘Hey, by the way, Dad kicked me to the curb because he caught me giving a blowie to my male friend and also I have a boyfriend’?”

Cas smiled at hearing Dean say the word boyfriend before turning around. “Well, you should probably tell him and give him a heads up instead of getting a bit of a shock when he meets me.”

“You’re right,” Dean smiled, getting up and making his way towards Cas. “It’s only fair. But what about his fiancée? I don’t know her at all, what if she’s some crazed evangelical who thinks people like as are the worst kind of abominations against God?”

Cas laughed, reaching out and pulling Dean closer to him. “Is Sam the type to fall for someone like that?”

Dean shrugged, wrapping his arms around Cas. “You never know. He could have changed completely since we were close.”

“I doubt that. It’ll be fine,” Cas smiled, pressing his forehead against Dean’s.

“You know,” Dean’s voice seemed to get lower, his hands lazily rubbing up and down Cas’ back. “I’m sure your tea is amazing. But I just thought of another way to…unwind.”

“Is that so?” Cas smiled, his heart rate beginning to pick up.

“Mm,” Dean seemed to purr, leaning his head down to skim his nose along Cas’ collarbone.

Cas reached behind him and turned off the burner on the stove before things escalated too far and they burned down the building. “You know Dean, the bed is over that way if you’re interested.”

He could feel Dean grinning against his skin. Dean leaned back up and cupped Cas’ face in his hand. “I’ll go easy on you,” Dean said, before leading Cas over to his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter got a little OOC, but I just wanted cute boyfriends being cute and learning the importance of healthy communication. And I managed to update in a timely manner!!! Yay!


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